“Overjoyed?”
I nodded.
“Sounds like there are a couple of conversations you need to have, young lady,” she said sternly.
Before she could lecture me further, Daddy walked back in with a cup of coffee. Silently, he handed it to Mom then rounded the bed to sit in the other chair.
“How are you, sweetpea?” he asked gruffly.
“I’m fine, Daddy. Really, I am.” I grabbed his hand and squeezed.
“I don’t just mean about the accident. Dawson told me about…” He glanced at my mother.
“You don’t have to pussyfoot around me, mister. She told me about kissing him,” Mom admonished him.
“What kiss?” Dad asked, sitting up straight in his chair.
I blushed a thousand shades of red. “It was nothing,” I said hastily.
“It was most certainly not nothing, sweetheart. You don’t have to downplay your feelings just to protect your father’s fragile ears. He’s a grown man. He is well aware that you’re an adult and have… done things,” Mom said passionately.
“Mom—”
“That’s enough, Sue. I don’t need any visuals. I know she’s grown. I just prefer not to think about it. She’s always going to be my little girl.” He crossed his arms over his chest in a defiant manner.
“Well, if a possible reunion isn’t what you were talking about, then what did Dawson tell you,” Mom asked with a frown.
“Um… about the person stalking him,” Dad muttered.
Mom gasped. “Dawson has a stalker? Is someone keeping him safe?” Her hand clutched her throat.
“Yes, Mom, someone is keeping him safe. The band has security. They hired the team they used to work with at their old record label. The head of it, Joe, is a former police officer. Everything is fine. You don’t need to worry,” I patted her arm and shot Dad a look, begging him not to mention Dawson’s suspicions about my accident. I didn’t want Mom to start thinking that Dawson should keep his distance from me.
“Well, that’s good then. Most of those stalker types just want attention, I think. Ignoring them is probably the best thing to do. Eventually they move on to someone else when they get no reaction out of the person they’re stalking. I’m sure the security team is advising Dawson on how to act.” She nodded to herself as she rambled on.
“Knock, knock,” Beckett said as he peeked around the doorframe.
“Come on in,” Mom invited him.
Beckett pulled over a chair and sat next to Mom. “So, I just talked with your doctor. All the tests look great. He gave me copies of everything to include in your file. I don’t anticipate any issues or complications with your condition. You shouldn’t have any setbacks. But, of course, you need to be diligent about letting me know if anything changes. Just to be on the safe side, you know,” he had on his doctor voice.
I nodded. I’d never take my health for granted again.
“I mean it, Isabelle. You have to call me if you notice anything at all, even if you think it’s nothing. Tenderness, nausea, dizziness, vision issues, headaches, lightheadedness… anything other than perfectly normal. Understand?” His eyes searched my face.
“I got it.” I pressed my hand over my heart. “Promise.”
Silence blanketed the room, allowing not only the worries about my health to simmer, but also the unspoken things between me and Beckett.
Mom cleared her throat. “Andrew, I’m getting kind of hungry. Let’s go grab something to eat.” Her chair scraped along the linoleum as she pushed it back to stand.
“What? We had breakfast before we got here.” Dad’s brow wrinkled in confusion.
“I couldn’t enjoy it then because I was worried about Izzy. But now I see for myself that she’s fine and going to be discharged soon… She is going to be released soon, right, Beckett?” Mom turned to Beckett who looked puzzled over their exchange.
“Um… yeah. The doctor is going to sign her papers after lunch,” he answered.
“See. She’s fine. Let’s go eat. We’ll be back before they release her.” Mom tugged Dad up from his chair. “If they release you before we get back, text us,” she said to me.
Dad gave my hand a little squeeze then stepped to the other side of the bed to shake Beckett’s hand.
Mom leaned over to give me a hug. “Now’s the time for one of those conversations.” She looked at me sternly.
“Yes, ma’am.” I swallowed hard. Nerves made me nauseous.
When she moved to the other side of the bed, she pulled Beckett into a hug. “Thanks for taking care of our girl again.” Her eyes shimmered with tears.
“I’ll always look out for her. No matter what. She’s important to me,” he said meaningfully.
Mom and Dad left, leaving an awkward silence to fill the room. Beckett sank into the seat closest to the head of the bed. I drew in a deep breath, unsure where to start.
He seemed just as hesitant as me.
We both opened our mouths to speak at the same time. A giggle slipped past my lips, breaking some of the tension.
“You first,” he offered.
“This is weird. I don’t want things to be weird between us. Not after everything we’ve been through,” I started.
“I concur. So, how about we make a promise right now to not let that happen? No weirdness or awkwardness, just honesty. I mean friends can be honest with each other, right?” he asked as he picked up my hand and rested it gently between both of his.
Relief filled me at his desire to remain friends. “Yes, friends can be honest with each other.”
We stared at each other despite our vow to have no awkwardness.
“So…” I said, drawing the word out.
“Yeah. I… uh… guess saying no weirdness isn’t really the antidote to stop things from being weird,” he said with a shrug.
“I guess not.” A tiny smile played on my lips.
“Before we get into last night and us, I really want to make sure you understand how important it is that you keep me apprised of anything going on with your health. If things change and the treatments don’t… last, it’s important that we get you on a regimen to get your disease back into remission. OK?” His eyes were filled with care and concern.
“I promise I’ll check in with you and keep you updated,” I whispered.
“Now that’s out of the way, about last night. Actually, not just last night,” he said, sighing.
“I’m really sorry. I never intended for any of this to happen. I honestly thought I was moving forward with my life, with you. Or at least starting to,” my voice wobbled a tad.
“Please stop apologizing. You did nothing wrong. We did nothing wrong. And I’m not saying that you and I were bad together. We just weren’t right together. You know?” He brushed a lock of hair off my forehead.
“I know. And we were good at the moment, weren’t we?” I asked, needing to hear him say that what we had meant something. At least for a little while.
“Of course, we were.” His thumb rubbed the back of my hand. “I cherish what we had. We were important to each other. We cared for each other. Loved each other. But last night, I realized that we weren’t in love with each other. And no amount of time was going to change that, was it?” his voice held a hint of uncertainty, like he was second-guessing his decision to end things.
♪ Happier by Marshmello ft. Bastille
Sadly, I shook my head. “I don’t think so. I don’t know that I believe there’s only one person out there for everyone. But I’m pretty sure there is only one person out there for me. Now, that doesn’t mean it will work out for me and Dawson. But it isn’t fair to pretend my heart is available. I’ve been in denial about it for a couple years now. Thanks for opening my eyes and my heart back up.”
“You know, after your parents’ anniversary party I suspected that this was where we would end up. I heard the CD he made for you. I didn’t mean to listen. I accidentally hit the button while I was driving back to your house while you we
re sleeping. It was shocking to hear about all your memories. I didn’t listen to the whole CD, but I heard enough to know how deeply he loved you. And then I saw him on Elle’s show. And all these bits of information swirled in my mind.”
He stopped speaking and looked deeply into my eyes, searching. Then he continued, “But I was in denial too. And two days ago, when I got into town… back at my hotel… I almost convinced myself that I was wrong, that we were right for each other. I was going to redouble my focus on our relationship and try to draw out the parts of yourself that you seemed to have lost.”
His free hand reached up to cup my cheek, and his smile turned sorrowful. “But as I listened to Dawson sing that last song at the concert, I realized that you and I have never once said I love you. It’s always been love ya. I wracked my brain just to be certain. When I couldn’t come up with one time when either of us had said the fully committed, three-word declaration, I knew I needed to let you go so you could have the love you deserve.”
His face was so sad. My heart ached over causing him this pain.
“I understand your decision. And you’re right. In your shoes, I’d have done the same thing. I’m not sure what the future actually holds for me… and Dawson. There’s a lot we have to work through. A lot to let go of and sort out. It may be an impossible feat.” I shrugged one shoulder and glanced out the window.
Beckett gripped my chin gently and turned me back to face him. “Impossible is no longer in your vocabulary. You being alive right now should be impossible. Yet here you are. So, don’t talk to me about impossible,” his tone was playfully scolding mixed with a sternness only a doctor or parent could pull off.
I gave him a half-smile. “I know that, but some things just can’t be healed—no matter how great the doctor is.”
In the sobering light of day, I knew the obstacles between me and Dawson hadn’t been overcome by a couple of heated kisses and “I love you” declarations.
“You might have forgotten, but I’m a pretty good listener and sounding board,” he offered.
He was right. Those qualities were what drew me to him in the first place, back when the darkness enveloping my life was deep and never ending.
“And just what did you have in mind?” I asked skeptically.
“Talk out what went wrong. I don’t need the nitty gritty. But I’m a trained observer and analyzer—it’s the scientist in me. Let me help. As your friend,” he pleaded.
“Wouldn’t that be weird?” I wrinkled my nose at him.
With his index finger, he smoothed out the lines on my brow. “What’s a little weirdness between friends? If we tackle it all now, then when I come to your art show, the weirdness will be gone.”
“You’re still coming to my show? You don’t have to, you know.” I couldn’t stop the smile that lit up my face.
“Of course, I’m coming to your show. I want to see what you’ve been working on. And friends support each other.” His eyes sparkled as he gazed at me. “So, let the weirdness commence.”
“OK. Where should we start?” A slight feeling of trepidation filled me, but I did long to have someone to sound off on.
“At the beginning of course. I know from the photos at your parents’ house that you’ve known Dawson since you were really young. When did you guys start dating?” he asked.
“Which time?” I asked with a laugh.
Beckett’s brows shot up to his hairline.
“I’m kidding.” I chuckled. “Kind of. Dawson was my first boyfriend when we were eight. My first kiss when we were eleven. My first… well, you get the picture. Dawson and I were each other’s everything without being anything,” I explained.
“I don’t understand.” He leaned forward, devoting his full attention to me.
“Well, we were both so afraid of it not working out and losing what we had that we remained friends. Maybe a little more. But never official. At least not until I was in college, and the band was starting to take off… Anyway, we were officially a couple for three years. We broke up right before I got sick two years ago… Well, before I knew I was really sick.” I paused to take a sip of water.
“Huh? Dawson, lead singer for Lyrical Odyssey, was in a relationship for three years? How did that escape the gossip magazines?” Beckett mused.
“That would’ve been the work of the band’s PR person back then. The label insisted we keep our relationship a secret. We weren’t to be seen in public. And Dawson was supposed to flirt and act single whenever he was out,” I said, my lips turned down at the memory.
“That’s pretty crappy.”
“It was. But we managed. Whenever I visited him on tour, we stayed in most of the time. Anyway, I don’t know how much you followed the headlines concerning the bad a couple of years ago…” I hated this part of our love story.
“I didn’t. My research proposal was in the final round of trials before being put into actual practice, so I barely had time to sleep, let alone keep up with what was going on in the world,” Beckett answered.
“Well, when I first started getting sick, I didn’t think it was more than a cold or the flu. After the first bout, I traveled to Amsterdam to meet up with Dawson and the band for Valentine’s Day. Things were great.” I smiled at the memory of my time in Amsterdam.
“I’m with you so far,” Beckett’s voice drew me back before I could get lost in those happy moments.
“Anyway, when I got back, some photos of us were printed from my time there. The tabloids went crazy with speculation about what it meant having Dawson photographed with the same woman more than once. Then someone managed to get photos and… um… video of us while we were in our hotel room. It was humiliating for me. It created a lot of publicity,” I murmured, praying he wouldn’t ask for specifics.
“I can imagine.” He squeezed my hand, encouraging me to continue.
“Then the reporters somehow got my name and address. It was terrible for a little while. I couldn’t leave my apartment. But I couldn’t really dwell on it since my health was declining,” I explained.
“OK. I still don’t see how any of that would lead to a breakup between the two of you. You don’t think Dawson leaked the photos of you or gave your name to the press, do you?” Beckett asked, confusion evident in his tone.
“Gosh, no. But around the time I started getting really sick, Dawson stopped answering my calls and messages. His phone went straight to voicemail. He never called me back. Time passed. I got sicker. He got quieter,” I trailed off. I swallowed hard, forcing the lump lodged in my throat down.
“Then I saw some photos of him kissing another girl. That was when I knew it was officially over. The record label execs had gotten what they wanted—a single, carefree Dawson who every girl wanted to screw and every guy wanted to be,” I couldn’t disguise the bitterness or hurt in my voice.
Beckett scoffed and shook his head.
“What?” I asked defensively.
“I know I just met the guy. But I’ve followed LO since their YouTube videos from their garage in Ohio. And that just doesn’t sound like him. He doesn’t strike me as the cheating type. Maybe you should withhold judgment until you have all the facts. I mean, have you asked him what happened? In your conversations since you reconnected did you ask him why he disappeared? Hell, last night when you went backstage did you even talk to him about the important stuff?” Beckett asked seriously.
My cheeks heated in an intense blush at the very minimal amount of talking we did when I went backstage.
“No, I haven’t asked him yet. Our phone conversations since we reconnected have been superficial… trying to find our way through the weirdness. I mean I was in a relationship. It would’ve been a tad inappropriate to dissect the demise of my past relationship with my ex while still committed to someone else,” I said through clenched teeth.
“Fair enough. And last night?” he prodded.
“Last night, intermission was ending when I went backstage. And other than having a chance to t
ell Dawson that you left because you broke up with me, we didn’t get much time to have a heart-to-heart before I got the phone call from the gallery.”
Who was I kidding? Even if Charles hadn’t called, I wouldn’t have pressed Dawson for answers. I only wanted him. Thankfully, my conversation with my dear friend here had reminded me of how broken I was two years ago before I had a chance to let things get too far out of hand too quickly. A lot of things needed to be discussed before I could risk my heart again.
“So, don’t write off Dawson just yet. Give him a chance to explain. It is painfully obvious that the guy is completely in love with you and utterly broken without you. All you have to do is read his Facebook page to see it or pay attention to that CD he made for you.”
Internally I snorted. Dawson’s social media pages would be the last place I ever looked for truth about him. Once he signed with the record label, his social media accounts had ceased to belong to him. The PR team planted posts like seeds, watering them with just enough truth to make them believable. And the fans ate the fruits of their labor like manna from heaven.
“What?” It was Beckett’s turn to ask.
“I know you think a lot of Dawson. He’s like your hero or something. That blinds you a bit, so I’ll forgive you on that front. But Dawson didn’t fight for us hard enough. He let me go. He bowed to the label execs. Did what they wanted. Created the illusion or reality they demanded of a world-famous rock star. He should have fought,” I said, finding the anger I carried for so long.
“Isabelle, did you love him as fiercely as you thought he loved you?” Beckett asked.
Lyrical Odyssey Rock Star Series: Box Set 1 Page 61